Chapter Fourteen

I fall onto the millionth fluffy bed that I see. "This one," I pause, "is comfy," I finish as the bed moves when Van falls next to me.

"This one is okay, but it's not the one, you know?" Van says.

"Van," I groan. "You've said that about every bed, pick one already. It's not a life, or death situation."

"Abby, this is a very important process, you can't just sleep on any bed that tickles your fancy," he tells me, in a British accent.

"Tickles my what?"

"My point is, beds are like relationships; you have to make sure that you can sleep with the person— I mean bed, every night. If you can't, it's not the bed for you," he says, insightfully, getting off of the bed.

I take a deep breath as I get off the bed and follow him to the next. "Okay, then on to the next bed."

We walk around for a few more minutes, trying out a couple more beds until Van just stops in front of one. He faces his back to the bed and falls back.

"Ahh, now this one is nice," he smiles, patting the spot for me to fall back.

I lay back on the bed and look over at him. "This is the one," I tell him. "I can feel it, can you feel it?"

"Come here," Van says. Instead of waiting for me to scoot closer to him, he gently pulls me by my waist, forcing me to lay half on top of him.

"Van, what are you do—"

"Shh..." he trails off, shushing my lips with his index finger. "I'm imagining me and my next girlfriend, on this bed," he tells me.

"Oh yeah, tell me what she's like," I laugh in attempt to hide my jealousy. I'm so pathetic, he doesn't even have a girlfriend yet and I already feel jealous of her.

"Kind of like you, but without a boyfriend," he answers, teasingly.

"Well, my doppelganger better be stupider than me."

"More stupid," Van corrects. "And don't worry, I think you make the cut."

"So is this the one?" I question.

"I like it, do you like it?"

"I'm not the one that's going to be sleeping on it," I point out.

"Well then, it's on to the next bed—"

"No, for the love of God, get this bed, it's comfy and firm all at the same time. I love this bed," I say, annoyed with bed shopping.

Van smiles. "Alright, alright, I'll get this bed," he states.

I punch him on the shoulder and scoot off of the bed to go find one of the workers to get the mattress for us. I start talking to one of the women working here, explaining that we just need somebody to carry the mattress out to the bed of Van's truck.

"How are we doing the payment today?" the girl questions nicely, looking at her computer screen. Her face looks a little confused as she types in what seems to be the secrets of the universe since she looks so puzzled. "Sorry, I'm new here," she giggles.

She looks new, and kind of young, maybe fresh out of college.

I look behind me, searching for Van, but he's nowhere to be found.

"Excuse me for just a second, I have to go find my friend," I tell the woman, politely.

I walk all around the store, trying to find him, but the dude is amazing at hide and seek. I swear, I can't take my eyes off of him for five seconds, he's like a huge kid.

"Van!" I whisper-yell, in attempt to find him. Just as soon as I turn around a corner, I see Van looking at a black racecar bed. Of course... "Van, what are you doing?" I demand.

Van looks up, innocently. "It looks like the bat-mobile, Abby!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh my gosh..." I mutter under my breath.

"I'm seriously considering this bed," he tells me.

"Good luck getting girls into that," I tease.

Van shrugs his shoulders. "Bet I could get you into it," he jokes, winking at me. "I practically got you into that Batman shirt."

"You can barely get me into my bed, Van," I point out. "Come on, we have to go pay for the mattress," I say, trying to change the topic.

Van finally follows me to the register, but he practically sulks the whole way there, like a little kid would do if he didn't get his way. He pays for the mattress with the credit card that his dad gave him.

A couple of big, strong guys help Van carry the mattress out to his truck. I would offer to help, but I would most likely just get in the way. Besides, I'm having too much fun watching Van act like Mr. Muscles.

When the guys are done, the cashier girl comes running out with a slip of paper.

"Sorry, I forgot to give you the receipt," she says, apologetically.

Van opens the passenger door, urging me to get in.

What is with him? He's been opening doors for me left and right today. I liked it a lot better when I was the main driver because I was the only one with a car.

"I guess chivalry isn't dead," the girl giggles. "He's a keeper," she says to me.

I glance at Van and see him grinning like the idiot he is. "He's my brother," I quickly blurt, nudging him in the gut.

"Oh," she says, surprised.

"Yep, this is my little sister," Van plays along, messing up my hair before walking over to her, collecting the slip of paper. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and messes around with it for a couple seconds then signs the little slip. To my surprise, Van picks up the girls hand and takes out a sharpie from his pants pocket, then proceeds to scribble something on her palm. "Give me a call sometime," Van tells her.

Van's back is to me, but I can guarantee that he's giving her his best smile, the one that makes you melt like butter on a hot pan.

I go ahead and get in his truck and shut the door loudly. Maybe I should stop egging him on. I know that he's doing it just to be a jerk. But maybe I'm doing the things that I am, just to be a bitch.

A little later we're back at my house, or our house now I guess, since Van and his dad have officially claimed territory yesterday. Van didn't really think about how we were going to get the mattress into the house because nobody's home to help. Go figure. We moved more people in, and there still is never anybody home.

"Maybe we could just do it," Van suggests, pulling down the door to the bed of his truck.

"Are you kidding me? I can't lift that," I point out.

Van starts pulling on it, scooting it closer to the edge. "Superman could," he mocks, purposely pushing my buttons.

I step closer, pushing him over so I can grab an end of the bed. We manage to get it onto the ground, standing up on it's sides. "Maybe we should call somebody to help," I say.

"You can do it, put your ass into it," Van winks.

"Shut up," I say, laughing.

Van and I get it through the front door after twenty minutes. I can't manage to carry it for longer than three steps before my arms want to collapse and Van takes every chance he gets to make fun of me.

The stairs is the hardest part of the obstacle. Van sends me up first so I have to walk backwards. "It'll be easier because I can just push it, while you guide it," Van explains.

I burst out into a fit of laughter. "That's what she said."

Van chuckles at my joke and blushes for just a second before going back to walking the mattress up the steps.

Finally, we get it into Van's new room and lay it in the middle of the room. The room looks kind of lonely. There's just a two tall dressers and a small nightstand.

"Don't you have a bed frame?" I question.

Van shakes his head. "There's no point in getting a new one when I plan on moving out after this year, I'll just wait," he tells me. "And my old bed is at my grandparents until my mom gets a new place."

I nod along. "Well, if you don't like sleeping in here all by your lonesome, the fort still stands," I smile cheerfully.

Van and I both know how much this situation sucks, but making the best of it for ourselves is really the only option we have.

Van pulls off his shirt, wipes off the little beads of sweat on his forehead and then tosses it in the corner to make the pile of clothes even bigger. "Abbs," he starts, falling onto the brand new mattress. "Were you serious about sharing a place after this year?" he asks.

"Of course," I state. "The guys are going off to college soon and we're staying here, we might as well stick together. I don't even know what I want to do. I got accepted into USC, but I think I just want to take some classes at the community college, or something. At least until I figure out what I want to do."

"My dad wants me to go to law school, his, one of his buddies has a spot at Yale with my name on it," Van tells me. "I'm not going though."

I make a disgusted face as I walk closer to lay on the bed. "You? A lawyer? I can't even picture it."

"What, you can't see me in a badass suit?" Van smiles.

"When have you ever worn a suit? You wouldn't even wear a tux to junior prom when you took Kendall last year," I point out.

"How would you know? You didn't go to junior prom," he reminds me.

"Prom isn't my thing," I state. "The dress, wrist-flower thing, the big hair, make-up, and nails."

"Well, if you go about prom the way that every other girl does, then yeah, it isn't your thing. Do it your own way. Go in a superman costume instead of a dress," Van chuckles. "You're going this year, aren't you?"

I roll my eyes. "No, I'm not."

"Why not? It's senior year."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" I laugh. "It's just a reminder that it's not over yet."

Van glances at the ceiling. "We could go together. If you decide to go, that is, I'm almost positive that the school won't let you bring Evan as your date."

"Prom is like, months away, in April," I tell him.

He shrugs. "Gives you time to think about it."

I take a deep breath, thinking of something that I can say to change the subject, but it's like my mind is drawing up blanks. "I'll think about it," I assure him. "But you might want to have a back up," I tease. The thought of Van going to prom with some floozy in a slutty dress is utterly revolting.

Sunday Funday? More like Sunday-FML. For some reason, my mom felt that it was necessary to make a homemade meal and sit down at the table on this gloomy Sunday night; "like old times." Nothing is ever going to be like old times, but I guess moping about it isn't going to make things any better. I'm past the point of being mad at her, now I'm just annoyed and disappointed by how extremely low her standards have become.

I sit on one side of the table and Van sits on the other, leaving Van's dad at one end and my mom on the other end.

I'm not going to lie, I've missed my mom's cooking. The whole sitting down at the table thing is just completely different, considering that Darren used to sit where Van is and my dad used to sit in Rich's seat. This is all so weird and...awkward. Don't get me wrong, Van isn't the problem, his dad is.

"We've been meaning to talk to you guys," my mom starts.

"Oh god what now?" Van responds, annoyed.

"We just have some news," she says simply.

Van drops his fork, it makes a loud clank against the plate. I watch as his attention flickers over to his dad. "You knocked her up? That's just great," Van says amused.

I can't contain my laughter, but at least I'm courteous enough to slap my hand over my mouth while I giggle.

"No, Vance," my mom states, becoming annoyed with the childish acts that Van and I keep playing. They aren't acting much like adults, why should we? We actually are kids. "We were thinking of taking a trip to New York for New Years, you know? Go to Times Square, that sort of thing."

I snort. "And reminisce in the state where you two started this whole affair?" I question. "No thanks."

"I'm not feeling it either," Van agrees. "I've already made plans for New Years."

I stare at Van, wondering what possible plans he could have for New Year. Probably just partying and getting wasted, eventuall leading him into some easy chick's pants and finally putting our little wager to an end. Abby Elliott? Winning.

"Well," Rich starts. "Can we trust the two of you to act responsibly while we go? Or do we need to babysit you?"

"You guys are barely home anyways," I mutter under my breath, aggressively stabbing one of my carrots with my fork. I don't know why I'm taking my anger out on the poor carrot, it's my mom's cold heart that I want to stab.

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